


entitled to happiness

by ballerinaroy



Series: nineteen years later seems pretty far away [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Motherhood, Parenthood, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:50:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: “It’s already unfair enough that we had to go through all that, unfair that we didn’t have normal childhoods.” Hermione said bitterly, “Why can’t I just be happy about starting a family? Why does it have to feel like I am doing something wrong?”“Because, we took on the weight of the wizarding world when we were too young to know what it meant,” Harry said, his words echoing the past assurances she had given him time and time again. “Just because it isn’t for the greater good, doesn’t mean it can’t be good for you Hermione.”For people who never thought they would live past seventeen, it’s a wonder watching their battle scars fade in their twenties. As Hermione and Ron prepare for the birth of their first child old traumas emerge. How will Hermione cope when the same fears she had at nineteen return and refuse to go away?





	entitled to happiness

It’s all relative. When she was eighteen and running for her life the worst thing that could happen would be getting separated from Ron and Harry, or one of them dying and leaving her to spend the rest of her life grieving; or both of them, leaving her to dictate the end of the war to the masses who had no interest in her leadership.

Now the worst thing that could happen is a row with Ron that lasts a week or being blind-sighted in a meeting or her amendment not passing for the dozenth time. It takes time, but Hermione starts to believe that she earns the promotions that she’s been given not just on her status of a “former heroine”. She’s always hated that title and the attention that came with it.

Hermione doesn’t feel entitled to a wedding. It seems like a luxury for someone who thought she wouldn’t make it to nineteen, but she does feel entitled to her happiness. And happiness is watching Ron’s face light up when he spots her, standing proudly at the end of the aisle in waiting for her. Happiness is when their best friend toasts them with tears in his eyes. Happiness is knowing they no longer wake at night in cold sweats, jumping every time they feel the chill of the changing weather.

Happiness it living the life they’ve earned; even if she doesn’t always feel she deserves it.

When Harry and Ginny announce their pregnancy to the family, there’s a look in Harry’s eyes that takes Hermione straight back to the tent. Anxious and frightened, more so than he’d looked in years.

“Are you alright?” Ron asked the moment the three of them were alone.

“Fine,” Harry answered automatically. “It’s exciting, right? I should be excited.”

It sounded as though he were trying to convince himself.

“Harry,” Hermione said soothingly. “What’s going on?”

He’d been so elated when he’d told them in private, unable to sit still to where he was almost dancing in place. Now he looked terrified, wand hand twitching as he looked around the room for Ginny. “I just want to make sure she’s alright, yeah?”

“She’s going to be fine,” Hermione assured him, catching his sleeve before he could start nervously pacing. “Ginny’s strong and she’s safe. Nothing’s going to happen to her.”

“Funny,” Harry said darkly. “That’s what everyone told me growing up and look at what we’ve been through.”

“It’s just a side effect from the trauma,” Hermione told Ron as they discussed the announcement as they got ready for bed.

Harry left them before finishing the conversation and hadn’t let Ginny out of arm’s reach again.

“Dad says it’s driving Ginny mad,” Ron answered, his voice muffled as he took off his shirt. “Harry wants her to quit flying but the healer said she could finish out the season.”

“I can only imagine who’ll win that argument,” Hermione commented, watching appreciatively as Ron stretched before fishing out a nightshirt.

“I’ve always said they’ve evenly matched,” Ron answered, winking at her when he caught her staring. “Ginny’s never listened to anyone and Harry’s as stubborn as they come.”

A bad bludger to the knee won out in the end, forcing Ginny to admit defeat and forcing Harry to calm his nerves. His anxiety somehow decreases as the pregnancy progresses, but it’s not until Hermione watches her best friend hold his child for the first time that she can understand how worried he’d been. James hasn’t even been born for an hour and she’s already ready to go to war to protect him.

“I know he’s hardly the first baby in the family, but I feel different about him,” Hermione whispered to Ron as they finally got to hold him while Harry fussed over Ginny.

“He’s Harry’s,” Ron answered logically, kissing the side of her head. “And we’re his godparents.”

Hermione felt another strong wave of emotions at the reminder, almost sending her over the edge into tears.

“Are you alright?” Ron asked his voice torn between amusement and worry.

“I just,” Hermione said, struggling to put into words why her heart seems to be skipping every other beat. “I want one.” She looked up at Ron hopefully, her eyes shining with excitement. “Let’s have a baby Ron.”

Ron isn’t as shocked as she’d imagined. They’d certainly talked about kids before, more since Harry and Ginny had gotten pregnant, but it still seemed taboo to begin the next step of their lives.

“Are you serious?” he asked in a slightly winded voice.

“Why not?” Hermione asked, “I could take a break from work and finish up my research. And, things are settled at the store. Besides, this way they’ll be close to James’ age.”

Ron blinks at her for a moment before nodding, looking a little dazed. “Alright then, let’s make a baby.”

It takes another six months but it still feels much too soon when they dazedly exit from the healer's office hand in hand. The healer assured them that the damage from the war will have no effect on their child and they’ll monitor Hermione closely as the pregnancy progresses.

“You’ve nothing to worry about dear,” the healer told them in a soothing voice as Hermione began to ramble nervously at the news. “We might talk about bed rest towards the end, but I’ve seen mums in much worse conditions have perfectly healthy babies.”

Hermione still feels guilty every time she has morning sickness or can’t sleep through the night. She tries her best to follow a healthy diet but can’t seem to keep enough down.

“You just need to keep your strength up dear,” Molly assured her when Hermione stopped by for tea. “I always say eat whatever you can in the first trimester and once the nausea passes you can worry about all of those supplements and proper diets.”

It’s the start to an endless cycle where Hermione feels she’s going everything wrong no matter the advice she solicits.

Even after her nausea passes Hermione has a hard time sleeping through the night. Her tired mind starts playing tricks on her and more often than not her dreams turn into horrid nightmares. One moment she’s holding her baby, a warm bundle in her arms and when she looks up they’re in the tent and the child is crying and Hermione’s willing the swell of blanket to be quiet as the sounds of someone approaching gets louder and louder and Hermione knows there’s nothing she can do to protect the life she’s made.

More nights than not she’s shaken awake by Ron who holds her as she cries and reminds her that they’re safe and makes them both cups of tea when she can’t fall back asleep.

“Ron says you’re not sleeping well,” Harry said finally after several not so subtle questions about how she’s been feeling.

Hermione doesn’t know what to say so she simply refuses to meet his eyes. Harry’d stopped by unexpectedly after work and Hermione had the notion the meeting wasn’t as casual as Harry had tried to make it seem. It’s been ages since he’d stopped by alone and Hermione knows they all talk about her whenever she left the room.

“Says it’s the nightmares from before,” Harry continued, undeterred by her lack of response. “Like how it was that first summer after the war ended.”

“How’d you get over it then?” Hermione snapped, “You were a mess the first trimester, how did you manage to stop worrying?”

“I didn’t,” Harry told her honestly. “But eventually I listened to my friends who told me Ginny was strong and that I needed to listen to the healers because they knew best.”

Hermione offered a weak smile as she tried to put into words the ceaseless emotions. “I just feel so frightened, all of the time. Like I’m going to mess up something and then something’ll happen to our baby and it’ll be all my fault.”

“Maybe you should talk to Molly,” Harry offered sheepishly.

“I have talked to Molly.”

“Or your parents?”

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes, she knew he didn’t understand where she was coming from. No one seemed to.

“My parents wouldn’t understand.” She said softly. “They didn’t give birth to a child knowing I’d one day go what we went through.”

“What we’ve been through?” Harry questioned. “Hermione, what are you talking about?”

“A war,” she admitted in a tiny voice. “How could I consider giving birth to a child when I know what could happen to them? It’s selfish.”

Realization dawned on Harry’s face. “My parents knew. My parents were in the thick of it, but they deserved happiness too, just as much as we do.”

Harry reached over, gripping her hands and waited for her to look up at him before continuing. “Hermione, there isn’t a war going on. We’re not raising our children for the battlefield. We fought for a world where they could live happy lives and not go through what we went through.”

Hermione nodded, sniffling. “What if it all comes back? Voldemort, he was dead and he managed it. And before him there was Grindelwald and before that, there was—“

“Hermione,” Harry said loudly to interrupt. “We don’t know what’s coming and I’m not going to lie to you and say that nothing ever will. But our enemies are gone and we are still here to protect our children. We will raise them to be brave and intelligent and if another war comes then we will be there to stop it.”

“I just…” Hermione faltered. She didn’t have the words to explain the dread she felt.

“We can’t let the fear of what’s out there stop us from having lives Hermione,” Harry told her firmly, gripping both of her hands now. “You deserve to be happy, Hermione. You deserve to have a family.”

“Did it help?” Ron asked her when they finally got around to discussing that Harry had stopped by.

“Yes,” she lied, turning away and hoping he wouldn’t question her.

But Ron had gotten rather good at seeing through her and she’d never felt the desire to perfect the art lying to him. He reached over to her, putting his hand on her shoulder and his thumb gently worked the part of her shoulder that always ached.

“If there’s another war, will we fight?” she asked softly, unable to look at him.

“If there’s another war?” he repeated slowly. “Of course we’ll fight, Hermione. We’re Gryffindors, we always take up the good fight.”

She tensed at the effortless response as if he’d never give it a second thought.

“And what if I wanted to hide?” she questioned, “If I wanted to go into hiding, would you come with me?”

Ron’s hand stilled and she could feel his confused stare even without looking. “Hermione?”

“I can’t lose you,” she confessed, blinking back tears. “I can’t lose you to whatever’s coming and-“

“What’s coming Hermione?” he asked in alarm, turning her to face him. “Hermione what are you-?”

“There’s always something coming.” She wailed, unable to fight the tightness in her throat, the stinging in her eyes. “And I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly, but she could sense the waiver in his voice. “If something comes— _if—_ and you want to run from it then I’ll be right by your side.”

“Even if it meant leaving your family?” she asked.

“You’re my family, Hermione,” he assured her.

“Or Harry?”

Ron hesitated and it only frightened her more. She knew Harry would never give up the fight. He would either die by battle or, if they were lucky, by old age in a time of peace with no middle ground. Hermione couldn’t handle losing her husband to the same fate.

“Hermione,” he said firmly, “I love you. And there isn’t a battle coming. But you know that I’d give anything to make sure you and the baby are safe if something ever came. You know that right?”

She nodded hurriedly and was thankful when he pulled her against his chest and she hurried her face in his shirt, focusing on his familiar scent, focusing on the pads of his fingers digging into her skin protectively.

When her boss offered to start her leave early, Hermione said yes before even registering the concern behind the offer. She can’t focus at work. She can’t focus at home either, but at least at home, she won’t lose her marriage for failing to make dinner. Before she leaves her boss requests she trains her replacement. Hermione had planned to prepare briefings and timelines but it’s all she can do to show the eager young wizard around the office and introduce him at meetings.

 _Seven more days,_ she tells her self as she collapses onto her couch the Friday. Seven more days and she won’t have to get out of bed so early in the morning.

 _Five more days,_ she tells herself as she stands in front of her wardrobe wanting to cry because the task of picking out what to wear seems impossible.

 _Three more days,_ she tells herself as she lies awake at night watching Ron’s rising and falling chest and wishing she could sleep as easily as he.

 _Two more days,_ Ron tells her in the morning as he escorts her to her office as he has for the last month. His hand in hers is the only thing that feels solid.

 _Six more hours,_ she tells herself as she packs up her desk, wondering if she’ll ever want to return to work.

 _It’s over,_ Ron tells her as he helps her into her cloak and picks up her bag. Hermione barely registers the well wishes of her replacement as she hurries out the door.

Hermione expected to feel relieved without the responsibility of going into work each day, but it doesn’t seem to improve her mood. She’s aware the purpose of her sabbatical was to raise her child and finish the research she had on the back burner but Hermione finds no motivation to even sort through the documents she brought home with her. They sit untouched in a crate by her desk in the study, still in the place Ron had deposited them after they’d walked in the door; taunting her.

She tells herself she just needs a couple of weeks to clear her head and then she’ll make the most of the time she has before the baby comes. But that time passes and Hermione is no more motivated than before to do anything but lounge on the couch trying to read the stack of pleasure novels she’d collected and knit. Neither activity seems to hold her interest for long.

Ron gives up on having dinner made when he comes home before she gives up on promising him that tomorrow she’ll have it ready for him. Now he comes home each night with takeout or rolls up his selves and starts without a comment.

Hermione thinks it’d be better if they’d fight about how disappointed he was in her. But when she searches for the disappointment to pick this fight with him, she only finds worry in his eyes.

Her belly won’t stop growing and she wishes that time would stand still because as much as she’s failing at this, she’s not prepared for what comes next.

It’s five o’clock. Ron will be home in an hour and Hermione’s determined to make him dinner. Determined to not be lying on the couch when he steps through the grate. She’d kept him up half the night when she couldn’t sleep, after all. The least he deserves is being absolved of the responsibility of making dinner.

Hermione found herself in front of the open fridge with a blank expression. They’d gone shopping over the weekend so there’s plenty here to work with. But she can’t focus long enough to make a plan. A salad she decided, pulling out the fresh vegetables and piling them in her hands. A salad seems a simple place to start. And then perhaps she can roast some chicken or boil the potatoes or fry the cabbage or toast the bread or—

Her breath is shaky and her clothes feel foreign on her. Her skin itches and she wishes she could rip it off.

“Hermione!” Ron cried out in concern. She hadn’t even heard him come in and wonders wildly how long she’s been standing there.

As she turned the armful of ingredients cascade to her feet and she suddenly feels faint. Ron’s arms wrap around her before she falls and she beings to cry when she can’t explain how she’s feeling.

“It’s okay,” he assured her when she can’t even decide on a word. “Let’s go sit down.”

He guided her away from the mess slowly. A tomato that rolled away squishes under her feet. It leaves her sock feeling wet.

“Hermione,” Ron said in a stern voice as they settle on the couch back in the place that Hermione had just left. He puts his hands on either of her arms. Hermione braces herself for being lectured, she certainly deserves to be lectured after all of his patience.

“I love you,” he began and his words stunned her. “But I am very worried about you right now. I need you to try and tell me what’s been going on.”

Hermione forced herself to focus, drawing several deep breaths and then looks into his eyes. “What if there’s another war?”

“What?” Ron asked, stunned.

“Ron, we were raised as soldiers in a war. We were so young and we didn’t know what we were doing and we made so many stupid mistakes that could have gotten us killed, it should have gotten us killed.” Her voice was soft and needy. “What if there’s another war and we can’t protect our baby?”

“Hermione,” Ron said in his most reasonable voice. “There’s not going to be another war.”

“You don’t know that,” Hermione answered. She wants to scream but she can’t seem to draw in enough air to speak above a whisper. “What if we die and our child is raised by someone awful? What if they go to school and befriend the next chosen one? What if they’re the next chosen one?”

Ron looked at a loss for words, staring at her blankly.

“We know how much evil there is in this world. We know what’s out there and we know it’s only a matter of time before someone else tries to rise to power. We’ll be the first ones to go when that happens Ron. We’ll be the ones targeted because we’ll be the ones fighting whatever comes next. We can’t protect this baby from what’s next and what business do we have bringing a child into the world anyway?”

Hermione can’t help the tears in her eyes now leaking down her face. Ron was still staring at her worriedly, his hand gripping her more tightly.

“We don’t deserve to have a baby when we know we’re bringing them into a life like that.”

“Hermione,” Ron said finally, his voice gentle and pleading. “We are not in the middle of a war. We are not bringing a child into a world that is unsafe. And Merlin forbid should something happen to us, then our baby will be raised by Harry or my parents or yours, by people who will love our baby second only to the love we feel for it.”

“Ron—“

“I’m not going to tell you that something isn’t going to happen because you’re right, it’s only a matter of time before someone else tries to take power they don’t deserve. But that’s not happening now. And you’re right that when that time comes we will fight them again because we aren’t the type of people who will sit back and watch someone take away the life we deserve. But we will thwart whoever tries to come next and our stories will teach our children how to thwart whatever comes after that.”

“We shouldn’t be having a baby,” Hermione gasped out as his words wash over her.

Despite the seriousness of the situation Ron lets out a nervous chuckle and places a protective hand over her swollen belly. “It’s a little late for that, love.”

Warmth spreads over her from the gentle contact on her skin. Hermione closes her eyes, focusing on the pressure of his fingers and his other hand moves to the back of her head, massaging her neck in slow motions.

“We are never going to be able to bring our children into a perfect world,” Ron tells her in a low voice as she leaned into him, burying her face into his shoulder. “But we’ve chosen to bring them into a world we’ve found happiness with.” 

The healer he takes her to the next day recommends a calming draught at night to help with the nightmares and to get out of the flat at least every other day for fresh air.

“Even if it’s just a short walk or going to grab a bite,” she said. “It’ll help you redirect your thoughts for a spell.”

Ron, despite her protests, insists on altering his scheduled to be with her during the day. They still had a month before the baby was due and Hermione doesn’t think it’s fair to put the pressure on George so early when they’d planned for Ron to keep working full time until the baby was born.

“George understands,” Ron told her at once when she put this to him. “That’s the joy of working for family. He’s just as worried about you as anyone.”

“I don’t want anyone to be worried about me,” Hermione answered with a frown.

“Besides, I was running the store by myself after Fred was born,” Ron reminded her, “George gets it.”

“Maybe I could go into the store with you, so you wouldn’t worry about leaving me on my own,” Hermione said after a moment.

She could feel him studying her intently.

“Have you considered that maybe I enjoy spending time with my wife and like not having to go into work?” Ron teased.

“Funny,” Hermione quipped with a smile. “Your wife thinks you just enjoy spending all day in your pajamas.”

Having Ron with her helps, and time seems to move at a normal pace with him there every day to entertain her. Not to mention the parade of family members who seem to drop by on a schedule for tea or having them round for dinner.

“Did your mum put everyone on a schedule?” Hermione asked of him after they wish their third guest of the week goodbye; Angelina who had just insisted on coming over for tea to escape from the kids.

Hermione collapsed into the couch, feeling worn but pleased from the company. She didn’t mind having them, no one seemed to stay longer than their welcome but stocked their fridge with fresh meals.

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Ron answered. “That’s what it’s like when you’re home during the day, someone always popping over, yeah?”

“I suppose,” Hermione said. “Must come with having a big family.”

Ron was frowning at her when she looked up at him. “Is it bothering you? I could say something to mum—“

“No, no,” she assured him at once. “It’s nice.”

She paused, trying to put her thoughts into words.

“It was always just my mum and dad and me. My mum’s brothers were rather awful and my dad was an only child so it was just the three of us once my dad’s parents went into a home.” Hermione explained.

She knew that he knew this, had taken the time to get to know her parents when they’d transitioned back to England. When she’d shown him picture books of long-dead family members and he’d listened, though she wasn’t always sure for how long, and could recite back the stories she told him.

“Must have been lonely,” Ron said.

“I mean…” Hermione sighed, grateful when he put his arm around her so she could snuggle against his side. “I never thought it was lonely, but I certainly spent a lot more time on my own. I remember the first time I came to the Burrow and was just shocked at how busy and noisy it was. I was so worried I was going to be a burden on your parents but it seemed there was always someone new popping up and they hardly noticed I was there, it felt like I’d always been there.”

“Mum would be pleased to hear that,” Ron told her happily.

“Even now, I never feel worried just popping over there,” Hermione explained. “I wouldn’t dream of just showing up at my parents' house. It’s a good different.”

The potions lift her spirits and put a pause on her dark dreams for a fortnight but after adjusting to her new regimen, the dreams return with a vengeance. No two dreams are identical, but they all have the same message. She’s almost always in the tent, or sometimes Hogwarts, with someone just outside her vision wanting the child in her arms. Once, she was back at Malfoy Manor, pinned to the floor by Bellatrix and forced to watch as Greyback made away with her daughter while Ron screamed from the basement not for her, but at her.

“Hermione do something!” his voice echoed, desperate. “She’s your daughter, you have to do something!”

It took ages, Ron told her, to shake her awake and even longer for her to stop shaking. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what she’d seen. Couldn’t bring herself to have him share in her guilt. The next night she was too terrified to close her eyes and though he said nothing she could feel Ron watching her worriedly through the night.

“You never show up on your own accord anymore Harry,” Hermione said when he’d stopped by the following day. “I know Ron contacted you.”

“I know better than to try and fool you, Hermione,” Harry grinned.

Though it was obvious he hadn’t slept and was hardly functioning, Ron had been unable to get out of going into work for the afternoon and sent Harry in his place.

“I’m fine,” Hermione said, pouring them both cups of tea and reaching for her nephew. “Honestly, I can spend a few hours by myself.”

Harry was not deterred and stared at her pointedly until she was no longer able to ignore him. His Auror training had made him rather good at getting people to talk, and while Hermione rarely felt herself on the blunt end of his skills, when she was it was rather impressive.

“Ron would want to know,” he said quietly when she’d finished talking, managing somehow not to break apart when she told him how it had felt so real.

“I can’t tell him,” Hermione shook her head, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her robe. “He’ll feel guilty. I just want them to go away.”

“You’re the one who told me it would never really go away,” Harry reminded her. “When the nightmares wouldn’t stop and I was getting angry all the time, you told me that they would come back at the worst times.”

“It’s already unfair enough that we had to go through all that, unfair that we didn’t have normal childhoods.” Hermione said bitterly, “Why can’t I just be happy about starting a family? Why does it have to feel like I am doing something wrong?”

“Because, we took on the weight of the wizarding world when we were too young to know what it meant,” Harry said, his words echoing the past assurances she had given him time and time again. “Just because it isn’t for the greater good, doesn’t mean it can’t be good for you Hermione.”

“What if this doesn’t get better Harry?” Hermione murmured. “What if I can’t get through this?”

“Then we’ll recover the only way we know how, by being so co-dependent that we can’t even manage to use the loo without consulting the others,” Harry said.

For the first time, Hermione managed a genuine laugh. “Oh, I still can’t believe Ginny said that.”

“It was true at the time,” Harry said as they both reminisced on the second summer after the war ended when, despite he and Ginny resuming their romantic relationship, he still was hard-pressed to be seen without Ron and her, “And if you need us all to share a bed then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll warn you though that Ginny elbows in her sleep and James is in sleep regression so it might be pretty miserable.”

“I think I’ll stick with my own snoring husband, thanks,” Hermione said.

Harry nodded, squeezing her hand. “You’ll be alright Hermione, we’ll get through this.”

“And how do you know all this?” Hermione asked, her lips twitching.

“We’re Weasleys now Hermione, this is what we’re supposed to do.” There was a twinkle in his eye. “Have happy marriages and lots of babies.”

Her instinct to nest distracted her for a time and then enough healer’s appointments to make her head spin.

“If you hadn’t stopped working already you’d be leaving now anyway,” the healer told her idly as Hermione sat in one those stiff hospital gowns. “But not having the additional stress has been good for you.”

“Are you sure she’s alright?” Hermione asked anxiously.

“I’m positive,” the healer said without pause for the dozenth time since she’d come in the room. “Just the same as yesterday. You’re growing a very healthy little girl.”

Ron gripped her shoulder, his hand firm, and grounding.

“I’d like to keep her in there for a couple more weeks,” the healer went on, “but if something should happen before then you’ve nothing to worry about Hermione. Her lungs are fully developed, she’s a good size.”

Rose overstayed her welcome by a full two weeks. It was only when Hermione was so uncomfortable that she finally began to think that nothing could possibly be as bad as waiting for her daughter to make an appearance that her labor finally began, a welcome pain compared to the discomfort of the past few months. And when she finally held her daughter in her arms she can feel her heart aching as if its capacity to love was suddenly growing.

“Brilliant,” Ron whispered in her ear, kissing their daughter’s forehead and then hers. “You were absolutely brilliant.”

The anxieties don’t disappear all at once. Only now, rather than worrying about the whole wizarding word disrupting her child’s life, her worries are about how fast their daughter is growing; and how Ginny’s finally admitted to them that she’s expecting for a second time, though Hermione’s had her suspicions for weeks. And she thinks that maybe they should be thinking about a second in a year or so too.

The constant visitors in their home doesn’t stop and there’s always someone there to coo over the baby, bringing treats and meals.

“It’s nice, having a big family,” Hermione said to Ron one evening after they wish Molly off.

Her mastery of kitchen spells left their kitchen nicer than it had been since they’d moved in.

“It’s nice having our little family,” Ron told her, still holding Rose in his arms and staring down at her as if she’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

The sight is so precious that it hurts to look at them. They’d been right, Ron and Harry. This was the world that they’d fought for. The future they deserved. The idea of not having it, not taking advantage of every precious moment seems so very wrong.

“Hey,” Ron said soothingly when he glances up and catches the tears in her eyes. “Hey there, it’s alright.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, wondering how even for a moment she could have wanted anything other than this. “It’s perfect.”


End file.
